Las Vegas Marathon Race Report

The Las Vegas marathon was my last “A” race of the year, and capped off a year of great personal development. If I look back to February, I never even dreamed about undertaking the challenges of training and competing in endurance events such as Iron Distance Triathlons or Marathons. Fast-forward to December 2nd at 9:37 AM, and my life had totally changed in 9.5 months. No longer am I a gym rat that moves between free weights and elliptical machines, afraid to even jog the shortest of distances on a treadmill.

We’ll address fear after the requisite race report.

Melissa and I arrived in Vegas on Saturday morning to clear skies, high winds (near 30 MPH), and open arms as we stayed at the family house out at Lake Las Vegas. It was nice to not stay on the strip, as I had some other things to focus on while in town, and having the support of Jack (my Dad) and Melissa was very calming. Saturday was spent picking up my race packet at Mandalay Bay (the process was exceptionally organized for a race with 18,000 entrants), watching the Civil War football game, and snagging a massage at the Ritz’s Spa. After a delectable risotto and salt-crusted fish dinner at their restaurant, I enjoyed a final glass of cabernet or four and hit the hay.

The alarm went off at 4 AM, and Melissa and Jack were less enthusiastic about being awake than was I. Being that my two days prior to race had included eating a bunch of pasta, white rice, and bread, I ate a small portion of Quaker Oates and had the “Don’t shit yourself during the race” talk with my stomach. After gathering all of my gear and nutrition, we headed down to the starting line in the back parking lot of Mandalay.

We arrived with not a lot of time to spare, so stretching, peeing, and long goodbyes were not possible. I jammed into the front corral of racers, and clipped my nutrition belt, and the 2-minute countdown began. After the gun went off, it only took me one minute to cross the starting line, and I was off and running at around 8:30 pace as I tried to dodge the crowd.

The thought crossed my mind that the last time I ran down The Strip, I was being chased…so this was a nice change. Having one whole half of The Strip to run on was great and finally allowed people plenty of room to set their own speed. After passing Caesar’s Palace, I began talking with Mike and Charlie. They were looking to run 3:30’s, as that was their time to qualify for Boston. I promised I would pace them until 20 miles, as that was my pace up to that point. They proved to make the race much more enjoyable and eventually they reached their goal…very cool.

The temperature at gun time was 37 degrees, and it was not much warmer than that when at 10k we started what would be a continual ascent for 12 miles. Talk about a test of will! I did not know the profile of the course prior to the race, so this was a surprise to me. During the preponderance of my training, I was preparing for the speedy Cal International Marathon, but a last minute change of plans forced me into Vegas. Look below and check out the difference in profiles (I think I would have run a tad faster in Sacramento).





The hill climb did not become an issue until mile 10, when I realized that my goal of hitting 7:45 pace or faster was not sustainable if I wanted to run a consistent race. Mike, Charlie, and I were bouncing along about mile 14 when the hill got the steepest and I began to hit the mental wall. Physically, I was golden, but mentally, I was not in a good place. I spent about 10 minutes upset that I was not going to run a sub-3:20 marathon as I would have at Cal International. Once my mental tantrum was over and I resumed relishing in what I could accomplish and not what I couldn’t, I resumed enjoying the clear desert views and thanking the nearly 250,000 course-side supporters.

Cresting mile 20 felt unreal. It was all downhill from here, but my legs were definitely not in 7:15 shape as I rolled down the hill. My body told me that I was going to go no faster than 7:40’s, and even that was a challenge. At this point I did the math and realized that I was going to run a 3:31 whether I like it or not.

All of my Ironhead teammates that I have spoken to said that true suffering in a marathon kicks in at or around mile 20. After reaching mile 21, my body began to feel pain that it never encountered before. A dull throbbing over my entire body stripped away all pretense as my race strategy changed from pace to survival.

I refuse to walk as I reached the bottom of the last downhill section to be met with a narrow road joining with the slower Half-Marathon competitors from earlier that day. While the change to an uphill grade was minimal and having to dodge the other runners less than fun, it nearly broke my legs and spirit, as I had to push harder at that moment than during any interval I have ever done…only to knock out a whopping 8:30 pace. This continued through mile 24, and I was now officially experiencing things within myself that I did not know existed. With 1.2 miles left, I sprinted with everything I had and crossed in 3:31, which was just at 8 minute pace.

Charlie met me at the finish line to hug me and tell me that Mike and he made Boston, and that they had me to thank. I was happier for them than I was sad for myself. 3:31 was not the best time for me, but given the 12 mile hill in the middle of the course, I’ll take it. This race was more about finishing and less about time.

More importantly, completing this marathon was about fear. See, I am not an outwardly emotional person. Some of even my closest friends would call me stoic or cold. Maybe I am just a good Scottish son, and suffer in silence in the bad times, but the marathon took me somewhere new. While moving through the finishers area and getting my space blanket, I literally had nothing left. With all of my normal strength gone, I burst into tear as I was walking in circles. Sobbing like a little boy was something I had only done twice in the last 10 years, so why now? Maybe I was no longer afraid…afraid of failure…afraid of pain…afraid of doing the unknown.

One thing I am know for sure I am not afraid of is my upcoming Ironman, and now it is on to build phase.

10k to Go

While my blog postings have been infrequent, they all focus upon the central theme of my marathon training: combining enhanced fitness with increased distance. After completing my Half-Ironman in September, I found that what I began to consider normal training was no longer challenging and adequate. There are two reasons for this: (1) Coach Dave trained me for a specific level of performance, knowing that in the future I would be able to attack the pre-race preparation with more intensity, and (2) My brain no longer was afraid to push the envelope (i.e. fearing physical failure or injury). The final long run of my marathon training last Sunday took me to a new echelon where I again began to reconsider what I am capable of accomplishing.

Sunday’s plan was simple: 20 miles.

If I take a mental inventory, during my Blue Lake Sprint Triathlon training in May, I never undertook a bike ride of such distance, let alone run. The training schedule called for numerous 20+ miles jaunts, but bluntly, I was afraid that I could not ride that far. Fast forward 7 months.

In the preceding weeks, Rachel (my training partner) and I had increased our distance steadily from 12 to 18 miles. While the new distances brought some self doubt and pain, I relished in the fact that each week I entered 2 miles of uncharted territory…the last 2 miles that were tacked on from the previous week’s routine. During my tempo work with various teammates, it seemed to be the consensus that the real suffering in a marathon began at mile 20. Up until Sunday, I had not experienced physical suffering due to distance or conditions.

The weather report was not appealing: 39 degrees with a howling North wind along the Willamette River made the jaunt from under the Fremont Bridge to Oaks Park via the East Bank Esplanade taxing. The Chinese Water Torture rain began to grate upon me at the 4.5 mile mark, and I had to choice to either take my already-sopping-gear and borderline tantrum attitude home or push through it. I chose the latter and ran the lonely Esplanade hoping that my muscles would eventually warm up and allow my stride to elongate. The first 10 miles was at a leisurely 8 minute pace with my heart rate firmly in Z2, but my perceived effort was more like Z3 when accounting for the wind, temperature, and rain. After making the turn around near the Pearl District, I felt a burst of mental clarity, and the rain was no longer an issue. Even though the conditions were deteriorating by the quarter-hour, I regained feeling in my extremities and shifted me perceived effort to what I believed was Z4.

After passing OMSI, I went against what my body was telling me and began to negative split the last 3 miles into the low 7 minute pace. During this last push, the suffering crept in. While none of the sensations debilitating, the aches and pains were amplified to a level I had not felt before. As I crossed the 20 mile barrier, the final 10K became the only uncharted territory left. I guess I can think about that while I taper.

Experiencing New Distances

2.75 miles does not seem like a long way. In fact, as I get deeper into my marathon training regime, 2.75 miles has become an interval length. But this last weekend marked the first time in a long time that 2.75 miles really, truly, meant something.

When you are a beginning endurance athlete, the last quarter of your total race preparation is filled with "my longest ____ ever's". In the spirit of redundancy, this last weekend was the longest run of my life. When I knocked out 16 miles two weeks ago, it didn't seem like that big of a deal, but something changed when I crossed the 18 mile barrier.

My route was a dual out-and-back along the Willamette River from the Fremont Bridge to Oaks Park and back. The first out section had a consistent head wind, which forced the muscles to warm up very quickly. Actually, through the first 9.4 miles I felt great, practicing my long distance shuffle and keeping the pace negative-splitting by about 5 second per mile.

On the second half of the run, I was joined by my good friend Drew, who is an exceptional runner and a New York Marathon finisher. He is a great running partner for the same reason he is a good friend...loyal and focused. We talked running strategy, and how to bust through those mental lows that invariably crop up during any run longer than 13.1 miles. Mine can in the last half of my 13th mile, but was short lived. The net result was a mix of excitement and trepidation as to what I would encounter when I crossed the 16th mile into unchartered waters.

Instead of fear, I felt a fire lit within, and even though my stomach began to fire, the will to power through kept me going. After crossing the Steel Bridge, and I finally pressed stop on my watch, I could begin to relax. Damn, that felt really good.

2 Hours 22 Minutes on the nose. PACE: 7:34

20 miles next week, 1.25 miles of unchartered water.

Increased Fitness and a Sunday Bonk

Every week that I am training for this marathon, I am setting new personal bests for mileage and pace. This week was no different, with a 45 mile week and my pace beginning to become respectable...dropping into the 7:30's at my longest distances.

This week I completed two solid interval/tempo runs, one stellar track workout (running my eight 200m intervals at 38 seconds each), and one ugly and painful Sunday distance run.

Sunday started out like any other long-run-Sunday. I met up with the Ironheads at Leif Erickson at 9 AM, but something was missing...namely my watch and heart rate monitor. Being that I was the only one going long on a lonely forested out and back, to not have my HRM was a bit much. I decided to take it out to six miles, turn around, and then log four more after the finish. This was a great plan, except for my knee and achilles being brutalized by the rocks on the trail. Some days, you seem to find all of the smooth patches at Forest Park, and others...well...you end up risking your health with every stride. Sunday turned out to be the latter.

After finish my 12 miler at a leisurely 7 minute 29 second pace, I cruised home for a quick four miler with Dash the Dog. As we took off, I felt a bit weak, but just attributed it to my earlier run. At mile 1.5, I began to sweat like none other, and looked down at my shoes and said to myself, "Huh, I don't remember red sparkles on my shoes". Well, I then realized I was potentially headed for my first bonk of my marathon training. After arriving home, I was in a full-fledged shutdown, and ended up on the living room floor, sweating, light headed, peeling my clothes off to cool down. Melissa kindly brought me a recovery bottle and some egos with syrup. After about 30 minutes of sweating out every ounce of moisture I had in my body, I was able to stand up and resume my day. A shitty way to end a great week...yes. Good experience and a much needed reminder to each properly prior to half marathon distance running and longer...yes.

Marathon Training Update

So running is still the bane of my existence, encompassing 95% percent of my training volume throughout the week. When I first shifted my efforts from triathlon training to marathon, the running was monotonous at best and I did not feel myself getting any faster or fitter. Unlike cycling where I could at least hang with the strongest cyclists on my team, running was another story. I continually developed stomach issues and got dropped when attempting to keep pace with the Greyhound Pack, but my fitness is beginning to improve. While I eventually get dropped on the intense speed/tempo work, I'm hanging with the Pack 85% of the the time. In two more weeks, they may have a new member, all be it at the back of the Pack.

So the last three weeks have been slowly increasing in volume from 35 miles to now nearly 50. Each week I put in at least two to three solid 7 mile interval sessions at Fairmount Loop that have boosted my overall speed significantly. As a matter of fact, I have set 5k PR's each week.

Sundays are reserved for my long run, and I have worked my way up to 16 miles, which is mindboggling to me. If you told me a year ago that I would be running 16 miles under any circumstances I would have slapped you. You know you live a strange existence when you speak casually about the sort of training distances that I am becoming comfortable with...it is truly humbling. Today's run wound up to be 7 minute 35 second pace on trails, so I would imagine that my road pace without the elevation change would be a bit faster.

This whole process of becoming a more competitive endurance athlete is the most humbling journey of my life. At points I find myself a spectator...almost in awe of what the human body can do when you remove the fear of pain from the equation. One thing that I have to come understand is that our bodies will tell us what our limitations are, and generally they are far beyond what our mind's perceive as acceptable. Pardon my etherial ramblings, but I am sure there are some of you out there you can identify.

Corre Mucho

The bike is awfully dusty these days...

Since beginning my marathon training shortly after the Grand Columbian Half Ironman, I have been relegated to running shoes and Monday Master's Swim. Do I miss the bike? Eh, maybe just enough to actually wish I was spending half of my Saturdays climbing in the West Hills and time trialing at low cadence around Sauvie's Island. But alas, I must remember this is time to focus on becoming a faster, more efficient runner. Last night was one giant leap in that direct.

A few of us Ironheads met up at the Fairmount loop for a nine mile session comprised of 3 minute Z2 rest/recovered followed by 1 minute Z4 bursts. I brought my buddy Drew along, who is a very strong "recreational" runner who works at Nike. Apparently, if you don't run 6:30 pace marathons at Nike you are relegated to plebeian athlete status. The group was Dave, Ann, Chris, Matt, Grant, Rachel, Drew, and me. Shortly after the first interval, I found myself holding on with the Greyhound Pack of Dave, Drew, and Matt. Chris and Grant, both absurdly strong runners, were gone (but not long gone), and we would not see them until the finish.

This was my first time hanging with the Greyhound Pack of speedsters for the entire nine miles without getting dropped. The metrics for the run are as follows.

Distance: 9 Miles
Time: 1 Hour 4 Minutes 15 Seconds
Pace: 7:08 average

That was faster than any race I have ever run. Looks like all of this training is panning out. My next entry will be after a leisurely twelve miler at Forest Park with Rachel on Sunday.

Marathon

I have been somewhat delinquent in my blog postings of late, but I have been harvesting our vineyard. The weather has been difficult to dodge, so we pick during short dry windows and pray for no rot. Needless to say, this is not conducive to training on a schedule, and luckily Coach Dave has let me free wheel since the Grand Columbian.

With my Ironman only 9 months away, the marathon aspect of the races becomes more daunting by the day. To quell my fear, I have decided to do a marathon in December in Sacramento with a teammate from the MAC Tri Team. The California International Marathon takes place on December 2nd, and the course runs from Folsom to Sacto.

According to my coach, I have 85% of the fitness from my Half-Ironman necessary to complete the marathon with a solid time. Why waste all of that training and not cross off another goal of mine, right?

The crazy part will be the lack of cycling and minimal swimming until the race is over. On one hand, I will miss the Saturday rides (and I bet I will sneak out to a couple of them), but I am excited to know what a marathon feels like. All of this is so wild, being that nothing seemed more unachievable than a marathon 6 months ago. The best part will be the increased fitness from running this race, and the confidence I will gain in my weakest discipline.